The Cowboy's Baby
He met Anna’s considering look. Saw the challenge in her eyes. Seems every time he tried to be different, something jerked him back to his old ways. But this time he’d run as far as he dared. He’d seen where he could end up.
He pulled his thoughts away from the journey that readied him to return. And away from the despicable deeds he had done. If Anna heard them…well, he could only hope she wouldn’t.
Anna had often begged him to stop drinking and take a role in raising his daughter. His response had been to hit the trail with a bottle in his hand.
But that was over and he was back.
He felt Alex eyeing him under the shield of his lashes. The boy had grown considerably since Colby last saw him, though he was still small and puny. And lacking in confidence if the way he kept his head down indicated anything. Colby had learned to never duck his head, always fix a man with a bold, defiant stare, but then he supposed Alex didn’t have any of the reasons Colby had for the way he viewed the world.
The strain in Alex’s posture and Anna’s averted eyes scraped along Colby’s nerves, magnified by the way Dorrie fussed because she had to face the stove.
“She ain’t invisible,” he muttered. “I see her fine. She’s got real purty hair.”
Dorrie squirmed, trying to turn around. Then she kicked her heels against the chair legs. It sounded like she said, “Mama, wanna see.” She threw her head back and shrieked.
No mistaking the determination in her voice, tinged with a pout. That child needs a cuff alongside her ear.
The words bellowed through his head in a voice he recalled from his past—his pa’s. How often had he heard it and felt the blow that followed.
His insides tightened in a familiar response, ready to duck or run and if that failed, to fight back. He forced himself to relax and something unfamiliar in its insistency edged past the words from his past. He wouldn’t run if someone tried to hit that little girl.
He’d left his baby daughter with Anna and her father, knowing they were good, gentle Christian people who, he hoped, would not treat the baby harshly. Yet he knew many good people believed in a strong hand with children. Conquer their spirit. Spare the rod and spoil the child. He understood the need for discipline but he hoped Anna had found a way to do it gently and kindly.
He had no idea how he would handle the situation other than to cuff the child. His nerves remained tense as he watched to see what she would do.
Anna took Dorrie’s hands and spoke gently. “Dorrie, sweetie, you must not speak to Mama like that.” She held the baby’s hands until Dorrie settled down.
The air in Colby’s lungs released in a hot blast. Her kind correction of Dorrie caught him somewhere between his rib cage and his gut. He’d forgotten how gentle her stepmother had been, even when she felt it necessary to speak to Colby regarding his behavior. In fact, he only now realized she’d been correcting him. Her words were so soft he’d welcomed them. Only other correction he’d had had come by way of Pa’s fists. His insides twisted with remembrance of his pa’s anger. He would not be like his old man. He would never hit that little girl. No matter how angry he got.
The hitting ended with him.
He bent over his plate, forcing himself to concentrate on his food as he pushed aside the bad memories.
Anna was a good cook. A man learned to appreciate fluffy homemade bread, rich brown gravy and a variety of vegetables.
“You do all those bad things they say?”
Colby jerked his head up at Alex’s question. Had news of his activities reached Steveville? Or was it only gossip and speculation? If they heard the whole truth…
“Alex.” Anna kept her voice soft but couldn’t disguise her shock.
“It’s fine.”
Anna’s quick glance said plainly it wasn’t so far as she was concerned, but Colby figured he might as well deal with the spoken and unspoken questions right up-front.
“I don’t know what all folks are saying about me but I did things I shouldn’t have. Things I wish now I hadn’t done. But that’s behind me.”
“God is good. He waits for his sons and daughters to return to Him,” Pastor Caldwell said.
Colby nodded. He and the preacher had had a good talk. Colby had soaked in the words of love and forgiveness the preacher read from God’s word and Colby had chosen to accept God’s forgiveness for his sin, but Colby wasn’t sure he’d go so far as to call himself a child of God. After all, God must have pretty high standards about who could be part of His family.
Dorrie mumbled something softly. He guessed she pleaded to be turned around. He wanted to add his pleas to hers but clearly Anna didn’t care that he ached to see his daughter. Anna’s lack of welcome hurt more than a fist to his face. Not that he would let it deter him. He was back. He had changed. He intended to prove it.
“Very well, seeing as you’ve been so good.” She turned the high chair around.
Anna had always responded positively to gentle prodding. Colby remembered that about her. As clearly as he remembered so many other things.
He stared at Dorrie. She had his dark blond hair and his blue eyes. She had Nora’s mouth and nose. And his directness. She stared unblinkingly at him and his heart sank to the pit of his stomach where it turned over twice and spun around leaving him struggling to fill his lungs. This was his child. Flesh of his flesh.
“You gonna take her away?” Alex demanded.
Colby noted Anna didn’t correct his curiosity this time.
The pastor leaned forward. “Colby has explained his intentions to me but perhaps—” he faced Colby “—for Alex and Anna’s peace of mind, you could tell them, as well.”
Colby nodded. “I had to make sure she was okay. And I intend to start over right here.”
Anna fixed a look on him. Her expression was composed but, though he guessed she tried, she failed to hide her anger. “Haven’t you done this before?”
“Anna,” her father warned. “He is a guest in our house. I believe he deserves a chance. After all, what would God want us to do?”
Anna ducked her head but not before Colby could understand she didn’t think he deserved another chance.
He had his job cut out proving to her he meant it for real. But now was not the time or place to discuss it. Perhaps if he hung about he might later get a chance to explain things to her.
He turned his attention back to Dorrie. “It’s amazing to see bits of myself and Nora in her.” Conviction burrowed into his thoughts. He wanted to be part of this child’s life. He wanted to watch her grow and change. He wanted to teach her to channel that boldness he saw in her gaze, use it for good and not ill.
Anna put her arm around Dorrie’s shoulders as if she could shield the child from his stare.
He ducked his head and tried to concentrate on his food. His throat felt thick as he understood her fear that he would take Dorrie from her. He didn’t want to do that. A man alone wasn’t the way to raise a proper little girl. But he did want to be part of Dorrie’s life and he didn’t know how best to do that. Was being in Steveville, proving himself changed, enough? He couldn’t say.
“How do you purpose to begin work at the church?” the pastor asked.
It took a great deal of effort for Colby to force his thoughts to the fire-damaged church. “The first thing I need to do is tear out and burn the damaged wall then begin to rebuild.”
“Father, everyone is expecting the church to be reopened in time for the birthday celebration.” Anna spoke softly, but Colby heard a cautious note in her voice.
Pastor Caldwell explained about the birthday party for the town’s founding father.
“When is it to be?”
“June seventeen.”
“A month away.” Colby considered it a moment, mentally measuring the work to be done. “Shouln’t be a problem to finish by then.” From his quick study of the damage he figured he could finish in ten days or a little more if he really pushed it. He shot a quick glance at Dorrie, shifted his gaze to Anna. Seemed no reason to hurry.
“You’ll burn everything damaged by the fire?” Anna sounded cautious.
He wondered what she wanted but didn’t care to ask directly. “Seems the best thing to do. Why?”
“Just curious.”
Distracted by the way Dorrie continued to stare at him, he let it go. Besides, he figured if Anna didn’t want to tell him what she wanted, he wouldn’t prod it from her. He knew beneath her gentle, patient exterior lay a streak of stubbornness to challenge most mules.
Dorrie lifted one hand toward him. “Da-da.”
Her word slammed through his insides, reverberating against his ribs, resounding inside his head.
Anna gave a short laugh as she grabbed Dorrie’s hands and pushed them to the tray. “She calls every man that. It’s a little embarrassing. Except Father, she calls him poppa. I don’t know how many times she’s called a perfect stranger da-da. If people didn’t know better they might think…” She trailed off as if realizing she’d been running over at the mouth.
Dorrie flashed him a smile and turned to the pastor. “My poppa.”
Pastor Caldwell chuckled. “My Dorrie. You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”
Dorrie babbled something.
Colby wondered if anyone else understood what she said. He didn’t but he grinned simply because her pleasure was contagious. He shifted his gaze to Anna, wanting to share the moment, but her eyes challenged him so directly his enjoyment deflated.
Anna rightly wondered how his presence affected her role as Dorrie’s mama. She had every reason in the world to wonder if he’d run again at the first sign of trouble.
He was determined he would not. But he would have to prove it.
Chapter Four
Not until the door closed after Colby did Anna’s nerves stop twitching. She watched out the window as he strode down the road to the right. Where was he going? Apparently it was too much to hope he’d leave town now rather than later after they all started thinking he might stay.
But at least he was out of her house, out of her sight. Just not out of her thoughts. Try as she had over the months, she could never get him completely out of her thoughts.
“Anna, what if he does want to take Dorrie?” Alex’s voice thinned with worry—a worry that scratched the inside of her mind, as well.
Father appeared in the doorway. “He says he doesn’t. Do we have any reason to doubt his word?” Carrying his Bible Father left to visit a family whose mother lay sick.
Anna could think of many reasons for mistrusting what Colby said—and even more for not counting on him. Experience had taught her those cruel lessons. But it had not taught her a way to subdue the portion of her heart that longed for the closeness they had shared. It had been a childhood friendship. Nothing more. But she couldn’t stop the yearning in her heart that wanted to reignite that friendship. Feel again the closeness, the bond, the instant understanding they once had.
Only her rigid, well-honed self-control enabled her to dismiss such foolishness and turn her attention back to Alex’s need. She squeezed his shoulder. “Alex, we can pray and trust God to be in control of the situation.”
Alex skittered a sideways look at her. “I’m afraid.” He ducked his head so he spoke into his chest. “Sometimes bad things happen.”
She pulled him to her side, wanting to assure him he was safe. But how could she? He’d lost more than she when his mother and baby brother had died. “We have to trust God knows best.” She had fought a hard battle in her heart to get to the place where she could trust God again. Alex lacked her adult perspective to rationalize events and apply faith. His thin shoulder pressed into her ribs but he remained stiff as a stick.
Knowing she had nothing more to offer than words, she released him and turned to wash Dorrie’s face.
Her disobedient thoughts returned to Colby and the way he’d edged his way into Father’s good graces. Father believed in extending forgiveness, which was fine in theory. Not so great when it put so many people at risk. Father would be shocked at the words biting the back of Anna’s tongue. If she voiced her thoughts he would gently chide her for being uncharitable, for not showing the love of God.
Alex’s mouth remained in a tight line. His eyes clouded with troublesome thoughts.
Her heart went out to her younger brother. “Alex, I’m sure there’s no reason to worry.” She wished it were so. “Now help me with the dishes and then you can start your homework.” She lifted Dorrie from her chair. As soon as Dorrie’s feet hit the floor she went to Alex and babbled something, her face wreathed in concern as if sensing his uncertainty.
He scooped her into his arms and tickled her, making her giggle.
“Lexie,” she protested, but they all knew she loved it as much as Alex.
Anna watched the pair. Not only did she have her heart to protect, she must shield these two children from hurt, as well. She constructed a quick, impenetrable shell around the thoughts that remembered happier times with Colby. She could not let them divert her from her present concerns.
Later, as she helped Alex with his homework, she resolutely kept that shell in place. One effective way to do so was to think of the cross hanging on the fire-scarred wall. So many things raced through her mind—the times she’d knelt before that cross, giving her problems and struggles to the Lord, seeking His help in dealing with the loss of Rose, the challenges of raising her younger brother and running her father’s home. How frightened she’d been when Colby had thrust his newborn baby into Anna’s arms and begged her to take care of it.
At first, her prayer had been for Colby to stay, stop his foolish behavior and become a true partner in the raising of his daughter. Her cheeks burned as she recalled how she’d imagined him confessing his love and asking her to marry him. She now understood he could not be the man she needed. She’d done her best to accept it and focus her thoughts on being a mother to the two children in her care and running her father’s household efficiently. God, why did You let him come back when I was sure I had put thoughts of him behind me?
She wanted to slip over to the church as she’d done so often and find help, strength and renewal of her faith at the foot of the cross. It meant more to her than a symbol of Christ’s death. It was a visible reminder of God’s faithfulness in her life.
Despite Mrs. Percy’s edict, Anna couldn’t bear the thought of having the cross burned along with the rest of the debris, especially now when she knew her faith and resolve were about to be tested yet again by Colby’s return.
She’d always found what she needed in prayer and she turned her thoughts toward God in a burst of faith. God, my first concern is protecting Dorrie. And I need Your wisdom to do that. But I also need to rest in Your strength as I face Colby each day. Help me be faithful to what You’ve called me to do.
Calm returned to her soul for the first time in many hours. God had always been faithful and loving as she struggled with her many doubts and fears. It was as if He patiently held out His arms, welcoming her after each bout of uncertainty.
She wanted to save that cross. It was only a piece of wood but was a monument to her—a sweet reminder of all the times she’d turned to God for help and received more than she asked or dreamed.
Once Dorrie was sleeping she could leave. “Alex, listen for Dorrie while I run over to the church.”
Each Sunday she accompanied Father on the piano as he led the song service so she often ran over to practice on the church piano. Only this time her interest wasn’t in music.
As she stepped into the dim interior she breathed in the acrid smell of the fire still clinging to the air, but it failed to rob her of the peace and tranquility she felt in this place. She moved slowly up the center aisle pausing to wipe her fingers along the top of one of the wooden pews. She checked her fingertips, saw a trace of dust. She’d tried to keep the place clean after the fire even though it wasn’t used for services. Somehow it seemed sacrilegious to let dust accumulate. Besides not only did she pray and play the piano here, Father still came over to study and pray.
She arrived at the front. The pulpit had been taken to the meeting place so nothing obstructed her view of the cross or the blackened wall. Raw wood had been nailed over the bottom where the fire had broken through. She climbed the three steps to the platform, her heels thudding on the wood, and stood in front of the cross. The foot had been burned off completely and much of what remained was blackened by smoke or charred by the fire.
Her vision blurred. She couldn’t explain it in words but she felt the cross surviving the flames was a visible lesson of a spiritual truth—that Jesus’s death had spared them all from the flames of judgment.
She scrubbed at her eyes. This was a lesson she wanted to share even as much as she wanted to preserve the cross that had such significance in her life.
She slid her fingers along the wood, carefully going with the grain to avoid slivers. It fit tightly to the wall. She wouldn’t be able to simply lift it off.
If she could only see how it was secured but the evening light had faded to a gentle dove-gray.
“Figuring to steal it?”
She jerked back and caught her finger against a rough patch as she spun around to see who spoke. A sliver dug into her flesh. “Ouch.” She squeezed her finger to stop the pain.
Colby stood before her, a grin splitting his face.
She scowled. “It’s you. I should have guessed.” It would be too much by far to think he’d wandered down the street and found some place miles away to hang out. She gritted her teeth but not before the barest moan escaped.
He shifted his amused gaze to her hands and sobered. “Are you hurt?” He grabbed her finger and bent over to examine it.
Heat scalded her throat and cheeks at his touch. A thousand dreams and wishes blossomed like flowers after a rain. She knew she should protest and pull away but she stood as immobile as a slab of clay.
He turned her finger gently toward the last bit of light from the west-facing windows. He probed the site with a light touch then yanked out the sliver.
She gasped yet welcomed the sudden pain. The flowers withered and died and saneness returned. There were no dreams, no wishes with this man.
He pressed the site, ending the pain as quickly as it came. Then he squeezed the tip of her finger. “A little blood flow will wash away the dirt.” Two drops of blood plopped to the oiled wood of the floor. She’d have to scrub it off later.
He watched her finger a heartbeat longer. “I think I got it all but you best wash it thoroughly when you get home.” When he released her hand she couldn’t seem to move. She stared at her arm suspended between them, felt the heat from her cheeks spread to her hairline and scald the roots of her hair. She yanked her arm to her waist. Her heart throbbed where the sliver had been.
He leaned back, his head bare.
At least he had the decency to remove his hat in God’s house. She realized her thoughts were uncharitable but found perverse strength in them.
“So what were you doing?” he asked.
“Looking.”
“Don’t get slivers by looking.”
“So I touched it.” She had no intention of telling this man anything more than that. “What are you doing here?”
He chuckled. “I was enjoying a quiet evening.” He sounded vaguely regretful, as if her presence had spoiled his solitude.
“Maybe you could enjoy it somewhere else. Don’t you have friends you can stay with or something?”
“You suggesting I go to the saloon?” His quiet words challenged her. “I seem to remember a time when you begged me to stay away from that sort of company.”
“That was a long time ago. Things have changed.”
“I’m glad you admit it. Because—” he leaned close “—I’ve changed. Didn’t you promise to pray for me? Did you do it? Or decide I was a lost cause?” His nose was only inches from hers. “Perhaps you prayed I would never return.”
She refused to step back and let him intimidate her. Instead she drew herself up tall and tipped her chin. “I did pray for you. At first.”
He nodded. “Then you decided to give up on me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then I prayed you’d never come back and embarrass Dorrie with your sinful ways.”
He straightened and stepped back.
Even in the fading light she glimpsed what she could only take for as hurt. She almost regretted her honest words then he grinned and she didn’t regret them one bit. The man was far too blasé about life. Just as he was about responsibilities and friendships.
Not even to herself would she admit it was one of the things she had enjoyed about him—his ability to smile through troubles, laugh at adversity and enjoy life.
“Sorry to disappoint you.” He shifted to stare past her. “What would the good people of the church say if they knew you tried to steal the cross? Do you suppose your father would be embarrassed?”
“This is ridiculous. It’s a burned piece of wood. Aren’t you planning to burn it tomorrow?”
“So what were you doing?”
He wasn’t about to leave the topic alone. But neither was she prepared to share her emotional attachment to the cross. It would make sense to no one else. They would see only how it was burned, damaged beyond repair. Mrs. Percy was right. It should be destroyed. But a flurry of regrets swamped her at the thought.
“Something hidden behind it maybe? Something you don’t want anyone to discover?”
A dull churn of anger ignited at his accusation. She suspected he was purposely trying to annoy her. But how dare he suggest she might be guilty of doing anything wrong. She was a preacher’s daughter who carefully lived a circumspect life. And if she ever missed the expectations of her role by so much as a hair there were plenty of people who would point it out to her. “I was only seeing if there was a way to salvage it.” She lifted her skirts and descended the steps. “Obviously I am being foolishly sentimental. Might as well burn it and put up a new cross.” As she hurried down the aisle, she struggled to control this unfamiliar indignation.
She marched across the yard and into the house. There wasn’t time to dwell on her unexpected reaction to Colby. She planned to finish the quilt tonight and deliver it as soon as possible. Thankfully the evenings had been warm enough of late, but if they had a cold, damp spell the Andersons would be hard-pressed to keep warm with the few things they’ve been given.
Anna paused as she sewed the edging on. She thought of how close she had come to sharing Hazel Anderson’s situation. The fire had been within inches… She shuddered. Life was so uncertain.
She jabbed the needle through the layers of the quilt with unusual vigor. Father might feel charitable toward Colby Bloxham. But all she felt was an enormous need to get the man on his way as soon as humanly possible before he upset her life. Again.
She needed divine help and paused to bow her head. Our Father in heaven, be so kind as to put Your mighty hand on the man’s back and move him onward. Before he turns my world upside down and my heart inside out. Again.
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